


Paint It Red

by sawbones



Category: Mass Effect, Mass Effect - All Media Types, Mass Effect: Andromeda
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experience
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:10:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: In the cut-throat world of smuggling, every job comes with a risk. It's a lucky day when you find someone willing to take it for you.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I got several requests on tumblr for roughly the same thing ie Ryder gets caught up in something bad, and Reyes has to deal with it.
> 
> One request:  
> "[...]maybe scott gets caught up in some of reyes' smuggling business (maybe hurt or kidnapped, even) and reyes is losing his mind from the guilt?"

“Look, you don’t have to do this for me,” Reyes said as he leaned against the table, all lean lines and soft smiles, “But I would be eternally grateful if you did.”

“Don’t you have an army of mooks to do this kinda work?” Scott asked. He sized Reyes up as he sauntered over to him, enjoying the not-so-subtle posing that was  _ definitely _ for his benefit. Reyes smiled.

“An army of mooks, but only one you,” he said. If he objected to Scott trapping him in place with his hands braced either side of him on the table, he didn’t say anything. In fact, Scott thought he quite liked it, if the flush of colour rising above his collar was any indication, “This could be something big for the Collective. For Kadara. I don’t want to take a gamble with this. I want my best man on the job.”

“I’m your man, am I?” Scott asked, his voice low as he pressed up against Reyes. He loved the way his lashes fluttered at the contact, like he could hardly control himself despite his cool composure.

“I should certainly hope so,” he said as he looped his arms around Scott’s neck, “What do you say?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” Scott trailed off. Reyes lifted his chin in an invitation he couldn’t resist, and he met him half-way with the kiss. Reyes Vidal was a very hard man to say no to.

 

\--

 

Ryder should have known something was fishy from the moment he arrived at the meet sight. For a start, the contact had chosen a deliberately obtuse place to meet: deep in the bowels of a maze-like cave system several times the size of the one the Collective used as their base. They had wanted to speak to the Charlatan himself, no fronts, no guards; Reyes had reasoned that Scott was enough of a celebrity at that point that they wouldn’t take his own absence personally. 

Scott had voiced his concerns, but Reyes had assured him he wasn’t taking any risks with the deal or with Scott’s wellbeing - even if scars were dashing, apparently. He said his info was watertight, and a lot of time and credits had been spent to get them to that point. Scott trusted him.

It took a while to find his way to the meeting point, even with SAM’s help. He took comfort that the readings only showed one life-form ahead, so at least it (probably) wasn’t an ambush - he sincerely hoped it was the contact, and not some happy little eiroch taking a nap. What he found when he rounded the final corner, however, was a single angara perched on a crate in the middle of the small clearing. She looked up when he approached, and tilted her head coyly to the side.

“You’re not the Charlatan,” she said, then paused, “Are you? That would be some twist.”

“I’m not the Charlatan, no. I guess you could call me his right hand man, for now,” Scott said. She seemed harmless enough, but he still kept his distance. SAM told him she had a pistol strapped to the small of her back.

“That’s not a good way to start a partnership. We did arrange to speak with  _ him _ personally,” she said with a slight frown as she slid from her perch, landing on her feet with a nervous bounce. 

“Which sadly isn’t possible at the moment, for which he sends his sincerest apologies,” Scott said. She seemed a little on edge, but he couldn’t really blame her, “And me, of course. But don’t worry, I’ve been given a carte blanche for this - anything I say comes with his full backing.”

“You must be close for him to trust you like that,” she said, clearly fishing for more information. When met with Scott’s polite silence, her lips thinned in displeasure, and she crossed her arms, “Right. If it can’t be helped, I suppose we should get on with negotiations then.”

“I suppose we should,” Scott said, trying to be agreeable. Her reluctance was understandable but he still owed it to Reyes to at least try and put his best foot forward in getting somewhere. Frankly, he was kind of surprised she hadn’t just shut him down then and there; last minute failure to meet agreements weren’t usually so well received. 

They used the crate like a table for the informal proceedings. The angara, who still hadn’t introduced herself, seemed to relax as they got into the minutiae of cargo drops and credit transfers once she realised Scott was serious and had a decent idea of what was going on (Reyes had uploaded the need-to-know basics to SAM; the rest of his operations remained a mystery). In fact, she warmed up enough to him that she seemed fine with trading jokes and insults in that wonderfully open angaran way, and was apparently completely undeterred by his total stonewalling when it came to pressing for more personal details of the Charlatan. 

She seemed young when she opened up a little more. Bouncy, bright. She reminded him of Sarah in a way. 

“Well, I think that just about wraps this up,” Scott said once the final transaction was authorised and sent, tens of thousands of credits flashed away in an instant. They’d been at it for the best part of an hour, hashing out the deal and then setting it up. Reyes might have pushed a little harder but Scott figured he’d be happy enough. 

“It has been a pleasure doing business with you, Ryder,” the anagran said, stowing her datapad and powering off her omni-tool, “And I promise the Nexus will never find out about this.”

“Much appreciated,” Scott said with a laugh. SAM silently pinged Reyes to let him know he was done. He stepped to the angara with his fore-arm raised in the manner Jaal had shown him. She scoffed and pushed it aside, pulling him into a one-armed hug. Scott was taken aback, but returned it anyway. He didn’t want to offend.

“You know, I had a gut-feeling this would go badly when I first arrived, but I’m glad to be proven wrong,” he said. It was a little awkward, but he’d never done business with an angaran before. 

“Aww, Ryder,” she said, and pulled back slightly while still hanging on to him. Her smile had a thin, cold edge to it - almost as cold as the muzzle of the pistol she pressed against his stomach with her spare hand, “You should always trust your gut.”

Ryder heard the shots before he felt them, two in quick succession, inches apart. There was no pain at first, just the concussion, a winding blow that knocked the breath out of his lungs like he’d been punched in the stomach. 

“I know you’re listening, Charlatan,” she said out loud, like the cave had been bugged (maybe it had),“The Outcasts didn’t die with Sloane Kelly, but your pet Pathfinder dies here! You’re not as untouchable as you think!”

A hot wet heat in his gut unfurled like a flag, spooling down the front of his compression suit, seeping through his armor, and Scott realised it was blood. His blood. He was bleeding. The angaran tried to push him away from her but he clung on to her by the front of her vac-suit like a drowning man; they struggled like that as SAM filled his head with warnings and alerts. Scott shoved her up against the crate hard enough to make her cry out and drop the gun, but then she pushed back, hands locked around his wrists, trying to break his hold so she could escape before back-up came. 

SAM advised him that back-up might not come in time. They were so deep in the mountain. The second shot had ricocheted off his pelvis and nicked his renal artery. There were several countdowns rolling over at once, projected against the inside of his skull. None of them started above the ten minute mark. SAM could only do so much.

The angara drew back, punched him in the face, once, twice, and his nose cracked. His legs gave way beneath him, but when he fell, he brought her down too. He rolled them; he wasn’t strong enough to hold her down but he could use his weight to his advantage. She bared her teeth as they struggled; blood from his broken nose dripped onto her face. She reached out blindly with one hand, her fingers scrabbling against the stone floor to reach for the gun she had dropped, the other hand jammed against Scott’s face in an effort to hold him off.

He could feel his strength failing, his grip slackening. His vision was blurring, dimming. He was dying, and he didn’t need SAM to tell him so. The angara managed to use the slack to reach the gun and swung it round; with the last of his wits, Scott activated him omni-blade. It bit into the thin skin beneath her jaw, pushed on through her neck like a hot knife through butter. There was a flash of anger in her blue eyes, fear and hatred. Then, there was nothing but a dimming light, and the diminishing gurgle of blue blood, spilling out over his hands and from between her parted lips. 

Scott couldn’t keep himself upright any more. He couldn’t decipher what SAM was trying to tell him, it was all just noises, lights behind his eyes. The pain was coming now, a savage raw ache that drilled through him with every laboured breath. He put his hands to his stomach, but he wasn’t strong enough to press down. He watched in muted horror as the blood seeped through his fingers, blackish and unbidden. 

He didn’t want to die on top of her, the angaran. He twisted to the side, rolled away as far as he could, which wasn’t far at all. Just far enough that was was on his back, staring up at the grim, grey ceiling. Scott closed his eyes, let himself settle. A tear rolled down his cheek. He always thought he’d die under the stars.

 

\--

 

A numbness filled Scott from head to toe. He couldn’t feel limbs at all, as cold and heavy as lead, but he was vaguely aware there was someone holding his hand. He couldn’t feel the touch, but he could feel the pressure. Noises filtered through the cotton wool that surely stuffed his aching head, urgent voices, what sounded like alarms. The low rumbling of a badly insulated engine. Was he on a shuttle?

He tried to open his eyes, but the effort was gargantuan. His face was cold - no, not just his face, he was cold all over.  It was a struggle to make sense of the shapes moving around him - people, leaning over him, scraps of cloud rushing past the window, and-- Reyes. Reyes, sitting by his side, hunkered down like he was trying to make himself as small as possible. He had Scott’s hand clasped between his own, pressed to his lips. His eyes were shut tight and he was talking without sound, silent muttering; there was blood on his face, his hands, all over his lovely flight suit. 

“Reyes, blood,” Scott said, or rather, he tried to. His tongue wouldn’t move the way he wanted it too, “Are you hurt?”

Reyes looked up, his eyes wide and red rimmed. His face creased into an unreadable expression, something wild and wounded that made Scott more scared than the medics did. He reached out to cup his cheek with a trembling hand.

“Scott,” he said, his voice breaking, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry-- I should have-- I should have went with you, I should have been there. Scott, I’m--”

“You’re okay,” Scott slurred. He tried to smile. He hoped he was, because he couldn’t keep his eyes open any more. The darkness was creeping into the corners again. He was just so tired, “You’ll be fine. You’re fine.”

 

\--

 

When Scott opened his eyes again, he was far less groggy but not much less confused. It took a long hard minute of blinking up at the ceiling for his brain to reforge itself through the fog of painkillers, and it all came racing back. His breath caught in his throat. His heart-rate spiked, causing a chirp of alarm from his vital monitor and a warm welcome back to consciousness from SAM. Lexi was at his side with her scanner flaring before he could even try and sit up.

“Don’t,” she said in a hard whisper. She was clearly furious, the anger simmering just below the surface, but Scott could almost feel the waves of relief rolling off her, “Don’t you dare try and move or I’ll sedate you again.”

The threat held a vague appeal, especially considering the dull ache in his abdomen like a full body bruise. He was tired. He fell thin, insubstantial, like he’d been pulled too far in all directions, “Why are you whispering?”

Lexi’s mouth tugged into a neat frown, and she gestured to the far side of the room. Scott had to strain his neck to see without sitting up but there, slumped in a chair and soundly asleep, was Reyes Vidal. On the Tempest. On _ his _ ship. 

Someone (Liam) had put a jacket over him, like they didn’t have blankets to spare. 

He looked so much like he belonged there. It made Scott ache in ways that had nothing to do with the bullet wounds.

“By all rights I should send him home via the airlock for this, but he brought you here, and he’s adamant to stay,” Lexi said, disapproval dripping from every word. She sighed and looked back down at the scanner, “He hasn’t moved since you arrived. He even took a swing at Drack when he tried to throw him out.”

Scott didn’t say anything. He simply lay his head back down and nodded. His mouth felt dry and his throat hurt, though he couldn’t remember if it was from intubation, or screaming, or just thirst. Lexi met his eye and held it. She lowered the scanner.

“Look, I know I’ve got about twenty seconds before you ask me to leave so you can talk, so I’ll be brief: you were shot twice in the lower abdomen. Both bullets perforated your intestines, with the second ricocheting off your pelvis and nearly severing your renal artery, causing  _ severe _ internal injury and bleeding. This isn’t just something you slap medigel on and forget about in the morning, Ryder. You’re going to be here for a while,” she said. She paused, shifted from foot to foot, “But you’re alive, and lucky to be so. As much as it pains me to admit it, that’s in no small part to Mr Vidal’s quick actions. He got you into this mess, and he pulled you out. By the skin of your teeth, but he did. Make of that what you will.”

“Thank you, doctor,” Scott said. His voice was raspy, weak. Lexi managed to give him a tight smile and place a hand on his arm for just a second before she left. That touch alone made him feel like he would choke on his guilt. He waited until he knew she’d be well gone, and then tried to push himself up on his elbows. It was hard - every shift sent fresh coils of agony through him, but eventually he was more or less sitting upright against his pillows.

“Reyes,” he said softly. There was no response, so he tried again, “ _ Reyes. _ ”

The smuggler frowned in his sleep as he slowly stirred, obviously exhausted and not happy about being disturbed - but then as if remembering where he was, and why, he suddenly snapped away and sat up properly. The jacket slithered off him and onto the floor, forgotten. 

Scott realised then he was still covered in blood. Scott’s blood. He’d washed it off his face and hands but his flight suit was still stiff with blackish gore, like he was the one who had been shot. He realised then that he must have been the one to carry him to the shuttle. Scott’s fingers curled in the soft blanket covering him. Tears threatened to well up in his eyes, his vision blurring for a new reason.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, his throat tight like someone had grabbed him by it. He looked away, “Like you thought I wasn’t coming back.”

“Scott, I--” Reyes began, but whatever he was going to say died on his lips as he got up and crossed to the bed on unsteady legs.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” he went on, and he was crying properly by then, unable to stop the tears streaming down his cheeks. He was lying through his teeth. He had been ready to do that to him. After he killed the angara, he had laid down in the dirt next to her knowing he was about to die, and he had damn well nearly made his peace with that. 

Reyes took his face in his hands. He brushed away Scott’s tears with his thumbs even though he was crying too, and pulled him into an ugly, desperate kiss, “I’m so sorry, Scott, I am so sorry.”

Scott clung on weakly to the collar of Reyes’ jacket, a tender imitation of his struggle in the cave. He shook his head and sniffed wetly, “No, no, don’t. Don’t be sorry, I’m the one...I’m the one that’s sorry.”

Reyes pulled back, looking genuinely baffled, “What on earth could you be sorry about?”

“I wasn’t careful enough. I-- I knew something was up as soon as I got there, I should have pulled the whole thing. I just didn’t want to let you down, I knew how much you had riding on this,” Scott said through the tears, “And your credits, I lost all those credits. She had me send them before she-- before she--shit, I fucking  _ fell  _ for it.”

“My credits?” Reyes repeated slowly, “Scott, I don’t give a damn about the credits! I can lose ten thousand credits, I can lose a million credits, but I can’t lose  _ you _ . I love you, Scott Ryder. I will never be so reckless with something so precious, so long as I live. Kadara Port could burn to the ground, and the Collective with it. I know now, the only thing that matters is you.”

Scott touched his forehead to Reyes’ and closed his eyes. He brought his hands up to touch his neck, his face, and buried his fingers in his short hair. He could hardly process what he was hearing, but his heart felt like it was going to beat out of his chest, “I love you too. Please, stay with me a while.”

Reyes smiled. It was thin and it was tired, but there was a well of affection there Scott knew would never run dry, “I’m not going anywhere until we can walk off this ship together.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi are my gay mass effect blog [space-mother](https://space-mother.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Special thanks to [kadarakings](https://kadarakings.tumblr.com/) for being really cool and betaing at short notice.


End file.
